


Ringo X Reader Rooftop Concert Fanfiction

by sunflower_beatles



Category: George Harrison - Fandom, John Lennon - Fandom, The Beatles, ringo starr - Fandom
Genre: SO FLUFFY, literally the only thing that happens is they kiss but its so so so fluffy, paul is really drunk too, ringo's red raincoat, rooftop concert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:06:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_beatles/pseuds/sunflower_beatles
Summary: i'm going to be posting the final two chapters of this work tonight as well. enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

I sit on the edge of the roof, my feet dangling over the edge. I can feel the frigid cement of the edge of the roof under my bum. The cold English air nips at my cheeks and nose, but I hardly feel it. I’m down in the dumps, depressed. I don’t even realize the faint wintery shadow crossing over me until a deep voice says, “What’re you doing up here, beautiful?”

I spin around really fast and see a pair of black pants and the edge of a shiny red raincoat. My eyes travel up, up, and onto the smiling face of Ringo Starr. And I’m so surprised I nearly fall off the roof. I slip a little on the icy slope, and Ringo’s eyes widen with fear as I accidentally slide off the roof. He reaches out and grips my shoulder, and he catches me just before my bum slips off the edge. He pulls me back over the side and I lean against his legs, heart pounding, breathing heavily. He puts his arms protectively around my shoulders, holding me close. My heart slows back to a normal rate, and I sit forward. “Oh my gosh, I am SO sorry, I didn’t think I’d startle you that much.” He speaks really fast as he extends an arm to help me to my feet.

“Oh, Ringo, don’t worry about it. Thank you for grabbing me!” I say, looking nauseously over the edge at the pavement beneath the building.

He puts his strong calloused hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, his blue eyes filled with concern. I can see his drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Internally, my heart is practically doing backflips because of the fact that Ringo Starr’s hands are on my shoulders. I can still sense the feeling of his shins on my back as I breathed heavily. He looks me in the eyes once again, then takes his hands off my shoulders. “Anyways, like I was saying, what’s a pretty girl like you doing up here alone on a rooftop?”

I sigh and look at the ground, wanting silently to avoid the question. But I let an answer slip out anyways. “I’m just… really depressed, you know? I’ve lost so much in the past few months. My mother, my dog, my driver’s license…” My voice trailed off. “Honestly your music has been the only thing keeping me going.” I look up at his mustached face again, and I swear I can see the beginnings of tears swimming in his cobalt eyes. “I mean I’m sure you hear that a lot, being real famous and all, but it’s true.” I feel a lump in my throat and I think don’t cry don’t cry not now not in front of him you have to be alone to cry-

“Oh, love…” He extends his arms and I walk forward and then he’s hugging me, and I faintly smell alcohol in his skin and the warm boyish scent, and the red raincoat he wears is wet suddenly, and I think is it raining? but I then realize that the moisture is from my own eyes. I’m crying on his shoulder. He strokes my hair as tears fall silently down my cheeks and onto his jacket. “Sshhh… it’s okay… I’ve got you.” His Liverpool accent is comforting, and I sniffle a little and back out of his arms.

“T-thanks, Ringo,” I say, my voice shaky. “I’m… I’m okay.”

He smiles, his teeth slightly crooked, and reaches out for my hand. I let him take it, and he runs his thumb over my palm. “I’m here, love,” he says, looking into my eyes. I smile and let my hand drop out of his. We stand there awkwardly for a moment until he say, “Shall we, er, move away from the edge?”

I nod rapidly and we step away from the cement siding of the roof. He leads me over to the drum set where he had played the drums just hours before. “How did you get up here, anyways?” Ringo asks me, sitting me down on the stool and he himself sitting on the bars behind the drum set.

“I… I don’t really know. I just kind of, wandered up here. I heard a rumor that the Beatles had been playing live on a rooftop, but I didn’t know which building, or even if it was true or not. So I disregarded that and just came up here. No one tried to stop me.”

He sighs. “That means our supposed ‘bodyguards’” he does air quotations here “aren’t doing their job very well.” The corners of his mouth turn down, then up again into a smile. “Well, I got to meet a beautiful young lady, so I’d say it’s alright,” and he looks at me, his red raincoat crinkling. A sudden chilly breeze makes me shiver a little, and he looks concerned for a moment, before taking off his raincoat and standing to wrap it around my shoulders. His hands run over my shoulders, smoothing down the coat. That sends another shiver through my body.

“Are you too cold, love? Do you want to head inside and join the party?”

His troubled voice is absolutely adorable. I shake my head and say, “Maybe later.” I look over my shoulder up at him, my chin brushing his fingertips. He smiles down at me. Then he slides his hands down from my shoulders to my back, and his fingers trail down my spine, then fall off my body. He walks back around me to sit on the bars again, stumbling over a cord that's half taped to the boards of the flat roof. I extend my arms to catch him, and he all but falls into my lap. His head lands in my lap, and he quickly stands up again. “I am so sorry, oh goodness,” he says quickly. “That cord practically jumped out from nowhere!”

I laugh. He walks to the bars again without tripping, this time, and sits down.

After that, we talk for a really long time, just getting to know each other. Eventually we migrate back to the side of the roof - “I won’t startle you, this time, love” - and we sit on the edge again, but he keeps his arm around my shoulders, and I’m still wearing his cherry-colored coat. He lets me lean into his body a little, and then we watch the sun go down over the cold cloudy horizon. I lean my head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?” he asks.

“For listening when no one else would,” I whisper. “Thank you so much, love.”

I swear I can hear the smile in his reply without even looking up at him. “Of course, anything for a pretty girl like you,” and then I feel his hand on my chin, cupping my face, and he tilts my face up gently, and I suddenly realize what he’s doing.

Our lips are maybe an inch apart? less? They’re very close, nevertheless. He’s sliding his arms around my neck. “Hey, baby, how would you react if, say, I kissed you right about now?”

I swear my heart exploded in that moment, but I keep my cool. “I would kiss you back,” I say, smiling flirtatiously. He smiles and shakes his head to get his hair out of his face. And then - don’t you know it - he starts leaning towards me. My heart almost bursts as I lean in, pursing my lips, and-

“RITCHIE! WHAT’RE YOU DOING, SMOOCHIN’ THAT BIRD LIKE THAT?” A vaguely recognizable voice screams out in the evening light.

I jerk back so quickly that I nearly fall off the roof again, and I spin around and come face-to-face with-

“MCCARTNEY! Get your ass out of here! Can’t you see I’m trying to have a moment?” Ringo jumps up and gets in Paul McCartney’s face. He isn’t nearly tall enough to, though, so Paul towers over him and says, “Sorry, lil man,” he says, his speech slurred. That’s when I smell the alcohol radiating off of him. He's completely trashed drunk.

Ringo looks nervously at Paul, then at me, then back at Paul. “Um, Macca, how about you head back downstairs, where it’s warmer… and safer?”

McCartney pushes fast air through his lips and Ringo is hit with a blast of alcohol breath right in the face. “Nah, I wanna see what happens with you and this lil bird here,” he says, gesturing lazily to me. I swing my legs over the edge of the roof so I’m sitting with my feet on the floorboards.

“No, mate, go back downstairs. It's not safe for you up here,” Ringo says, putting his hands on Paul's shoulders and pushing him gently towards the stairs.

“No! How come you're allowed up here but I'm not?!” His floppy hair and beard sways in the cold wind as he fights against Ringo’s tightening grip.

I sit on the edge and watch as Ringo pushed Paul back towards the stairs and yells, “Because you're wasted, Macca! You're completely drunk! It's not safe up here!” Ringo gives him one last shove and Paul stumbles down the stairs and out of sight. Ringo slams the door behind him.

He turns and looks at me. “Sorry about him, love,” he says, joining me at the edge of the roof and spinning around so his legs hang over the side. Then he turns and looks me in the eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “Where were we, again?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to be posting the final two chapters of this work tonight as well. enjoy!

I smile and say, “If I recall correctly, we were about to share a kiss,” and he doesn't say anything in reply, he just leans forward and presses his lips on mine, and I swear, in that moment, the rest of the whole world just melts away. Ringo’s hands rest on my waist and he is sliding his fingers across my body, down my thigh, and he grips my leg under my knee, and his other hand is on the small of my back. Chills rocket up my spine when he squeezes my thigh a little. I press my lips harder on his, and I can feel his bristly mustache on my nose.

Finally we break away, heating the icy air between us, my arm around his hip. We touch foreheads, sharing breath and smiles. He pushes his hand into my hair and leans in for one last smooch. I giggle as his warm lips touch my cheek.

I spin around so my legs are dangling off the side next to his. The sun is almost completely set, and I lean into Ringo’s body, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair and his skin.

I suddenly hear a shout from down below the building. Someone is pointing up at us, shouting, “Hey, look! There's Ringo! With some girl, oh.”

I roll my eyes and glance at Ringo to see his reaction. He glares down at the person and then swings his legs back over the edge. I do the same, and he stands up. “What do you say we head downstairs to join the party?” he suggests.

I nod and say, “Yeah. I'm getting kind of cold,” which gives him an excuse to put his strong arms around me, “For warmth,” he says, but I know that it’s really because he likes keeping his arms around me.

He pulls open the door that leads downstairs. We walk down in silence, the sound of music from the nearby party reverberating through the walls. My excitement spikes when he slips his hand into mine and sends a bolt of electricity up my arm. He pushes open the door, the music blasting, his drumsticks tapping against the doorframe from his pocket as he walks inside. Immediately we are greeted by a cloud of cigarette smoke and a very drunk Paul McCartney.

“Hey, Ringo’s back!” he shouts, his voice slurred. “What'd ya do up there with that bird?” he asks, noticing me.

Ringo glares at him. “Nothing, mate, get outta our way.” He pushes past him and he leads me by the hand away from Paul. As we're walking through the room, I see John Lennon (John Lennon!) and Yoko Ono, and I see George Harrison with his wife Pattie, and I see George Martin, and so many other people who I've only ever read about. I look around in awe at all the high-profile people around me, and Ringo squeezes my hand. “You okay, baby?” he asks in that cute worried voice.

I nod. “Yeah just- a little overwhelmed,” I say, leaning into his arm. I realize that I’m still wearing his red raincoat, making my skin smell like his. He leads me to a corner where it’s quieter and darker, and we sit down on the squishy sofa, hips touching. He puts his arms around me again. It’s almost like he can’t keep himself away from me. He leans his head down and presses his lips on my neck, sending more chills through my body. I laugh and play-fight with him as he plants more and more kisses on my neck and cheeks. Finally I get him to stop, both of us laughing, but secretly I want more.

Someone clears their throat behind us. I turn around and see George Martin, the Beatles producer. He’s holding a stub of a cigarette and he looks down at Ringo. Furrowing his eyebrows, he says, “Who’s this, Ritchie?”

Ringo sits up straight really fast and acts politely. “Oh, George, this is just this fine girl I met up on the rooftop, her name is (Y/N), she’s a real nice girl, really.” He stumbles over his words a little and I have to resist the urge to kiss him again.

“Oh, well, Rich, I don’t suppose you could lemme borrow a cig?” George takes one last drag from his spent smoke and tosses it on the floor. Ringo pats his pockets for his pack of cigarettes, then reaches into the pocket of his red coat that I’m wearing and produces a pack. He tosses a smoke at the producer, who lights it and takes a drawl. “Thanks, Rings.” And just like that, he’s gone in the haze of cigarette smoke in the room. Ringo looks down at the cigarette box in his hand. “I’m-a have me a smoke, you want one, love?” he asks me, pulling a cig out of the pack and lighting it.

“No, that’s alright, Ritchie,” I say, using the nickname George Martin had for him.

He smiles at my voice with the smoking cigarette in between his crooked teeth. “So, (Y/N), tell me about you. I want to know all about you. Where do you like to hang out around, what foods do you like to eat- everything.”


	3. Chapter 3

We talk about our lives for the rest of the night and into the early morning. The music has been turned down, and someone has put on softer records in place of the heavier party tunes that were on earlier. Slowly, everyone at the party gets too tired or too drunk or too high, and gradually leaves until it is just Ringo and I, cuddling on an old sofa in the corner of an abandoned party. But there is no place I'd rather be right then. I tell Ringo all about me, all about my house, my dog who passed away just yesterday, my mom who died of leukemia a couple months earlier, my dad who left us when I was two. He strokes my hand when I tear up while telling these stories. He tells me if I don’t want to talk about it, he won’t make me, but I put a finger to his lips and say that it's alright. Because it is.

He tells me about the early days of the Beatles when he first joined, and his time spent in the hospital in ‘64. “I did think that the boys were gonna fire me right then!” I laughed at that.

“Are you going to be heading back to your home at any time soon, (Y/N)?” he asks gently after a long period of silence between us, and I can feel the vocal vibrations on my ear because my head is on his chest.

“Maybe, I don't know,” I say, sighing.

He scooches himself even closer to me. “If you’d like you can spend the night at my place,” he offers.

My breathing all but stops right then. “Really?” I ask, incredulous.

Ringo smirks. “Of course! I can sleep on the couch, and you can sleep in me bed, or the other way around, whatever works, love.”

I smile. “Okay, Ritchie.” I say.

Right then, Love Me Tender begins playing, the sound oozing from the player. Ringo’s blue eyes light up at the song. “Ah, this is me favorite!” He peels himself off the couch and, standing, offers me his hand. “Shall we dance?”

I grin and take his warm hand. “We shall.”

By now everybody has left, so Ringo and I are alone. We make our way into the center of the room. He places his hands on my waist, and I lay my arms over his shoulders. We sway gently to Elvis’ deep voice for a minute; then I lay my forehead on his shoulder. I'm still wearing his rain jacket, too, and as we dance to the music, it crinkles. My cheek is touching his hair and I can smell every scent of his body.

The song ends too quickly, and Ringo pulls away from our dance. “Ready to head to my place?” he asks softly. I nod, tightening his jacket around me.

Soon, we're in a private car, headed for Ringo’s place. He keeps his arm around my shoulders the whole ride, whispering in my ear at one point, “I'll have you know I don't just take any random girl home with me, (Y/N).” That makes me grin crazily.

We get to his home soon after. He holds open the doors for me all the way from the car to his front steps. And I can feel myself falling in love with him after just half a day of knowing him. I’m falling in love with Ringo Starr.

When I step into his house, I gasp. It’s huge, much bigger than my little flat. He smiles as I look around in wonder. “You like it?” he asks, placing his arms around my shoulders.

“Wow, uh, yes, I do! It's incredible!” I say, at a loss for words, mostly because he's here. He offers to take my - his - jacket, and so I slide it off my shoulders and he hangs it on a hook in the corner. There's a slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment until he says, “Shall we, er, get ready for bed? It’s past 2am now.”

I yawn and say, “Sure,” and Ringo leads me to his bedroom. He opens a door and I peek inside. It's his closet.

He reaches in and grabs a pair of his shorts and a plain t-shirt. “How’s this for sleeping in?”

“Ritchie, it's perfect,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face. A piece of his hair is stuck to his cheek, so I reach up and move it to the side. He places his hand on mine as I tuck his hair behind his ear. He leans forward quickly and pecks me on the lips. I come away giggling.

He waits outside his bedroom while I change into his clothes. They smell like him, a smoky, fruity smell, and I love it. I open the door once I'm done, and he's right there, leaning against the wall. “Hey, (Y/N),” he says, taking my hand. “Would you rather sleep on the sofa, or in me bed, with or without me?”

I grin. “Um, if it's alright, I'll take the bed.” Ringo’s cheery facial expression droops just slightly at the notion of him not sleeping next to me. “With you.”

His eyes light up like light bulbs. “Really?” he asks in his adorable excited voice.

I smile so big I almost laugh. “Yes of course!”

His face erupts into a grin as he grips my hand and pulls me into his bedroom. “C’mon, (Y/N), let's sleep. I'm exhausted.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, the long-awaited chapter 4.

At some point during our cuddle session I fall asleep with the warmth of Ringo’s stomach on my backside. His belly is soft against my body, and I'm thankful for the extra warmth in the cold winter night. I dream that night that Ringo asks me to marry him. It’s insane that after just a few hours of knowing him, I already feel so close to him, like he’s a old friend I haven't spoken to in years but still remember everything about him.

I open my eyes sometime the next morning to feel his arms draped around my body. I smile as I remember where I am, and who I’m with. Ringo Starr of the Beatles. I let that thought drift through my mind as I lay in bed with him in the late morning light flooding in through the large windows.

Some time later, I feel him shift and I know he’s awake. I roll over under the sheets to face him. His eyes are hardly open, but he smiles sleepily and whispers, “Good morning, (Y/N).”

I smile and push his mussed hair behind his ear. “Hey,” I say, overcome with joy. “I dreamt about you last night.”

Ringo sighs and tangles his legs with mine. “Oh really?”

“Yep,” I say. “I dreamt that you proposed to me.” I could feel my cheeks heating up. Why was I telling him this?

His eyes open up and I see their full blue-ness. “Really? Wow,” he says, exhaling heavily again. “Well, ya never know.” He winks - or, at least tries to, since half his face is pressed on a pillow and he’s still (adorably) sleepy. My heart flutters at the thought of marrying Ringo Starr.

He lifts up his arm suddenly and checks his watch. “Damn it, (Y/N), I’m late.” He sits up and swings his legs off the bed. “As much as I would like to stay here and cuddle with you, love, I was supposed to be at the studio an hour ago. Damnit, John is gonna KILL me.” He gets up and walks into his closet. I lay in bed, watching him through the half-open door. He slips off his pajamas and pulls on a very psychedelic shirt and some random gray pants he picks up off the floor. He turns back to the door and I quickly glance away, ashamed.

“Were ya peekin’ in on me, darlin?” he asks, walking back over to where I sit on the bed and placing his hand on my head. Ringo begins to pet my hair like a dog, almost. I love it.

I can feel the cool metal of his rings on my scalp. “Uh, no?” I say, smiling sheepishly, but playfully.

“I knew it!” He laughs. “Yikes, now I really gotta go.” He leans down and presses his lips on my forehead. “You can stay here if you’d like, love. I’ve got food in me kitchen, help yourself to anything ya need. And if ya get lonely, call me.” He ruffles my hair one last time and then exits the room after blowing me a kiss.

I sit cross-legged on the bed, with my limbs tangled in the sheets and his scent lingering in my skin. I sit there in a trance, not even jumping when I hear Ringo slam the door a few minutes later. Eventually, I focus my vision and swing my bare feet out of Richard Starkey’s bed. My toes hit the soft shag carpet and that jars me back to reality. “Okay,” I whisper to myself, “it’s okay. Ritchie will be back.”

I stand up and stretch. My petite body is much too small for the clothes that Ringo had let me sleep in, and the arm sleeves come down past my elbow. I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen to find something to eat. For some reason he has lots of beans and bread. And he has at least 5 dozen eggs in the fridge. I shrug and just grab some cornflakes. I dump some milk over the cereal and take a bite.

After eating, I wash the dishes. That’s the least I can do for Ringo, seeing as he’s done so much for me in the past day, much more than he realizes. He’s saved me. He’s saved my life.

I spend the beginning of that day just admiring his house. He has an amazing vinyl collection with artists like Elvis, the Kinks, The Rolling Stones, and of course, Beatles records. I thumb through these in awe. I’ve only had just a couple Elvis 45 records that were technically my mother’s. Music wasn’t a very big part of my upbringing but I wish it had been.

I take a slow walk around his whole house, exploring, being careful not to touch anything that looks too breakable. At around 3pm, I find the back door that leads to an enormous back garden with benches, trees, snowy grass and stone pathways connecting it all. My breath catches in my throat at the beautiful scene in front of me. There are birds singing and the cold wintery air is refreshing in my lungs. I step, barefoot, out the door, feeling the cold stone beneath my toes. I spin around on my heel and the chilly air rushes through my body, energizing me. I turn my head up to the sky, taking in the beautiful country environment and the wintery smell of chimney smoke and the cold almost burning my nose as I inhale and exhale. Suddenly strong arms slide around my waist and I feel warm breath on my neck. I know it’s Ringo. He has come home. “Hey love,” he breathes in my ear, sending a shiver down my body. “I got out of the studio early today,” he whispers. “I couldn’t stand being away from you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter of this work. it's not my proudest writing, but i do like it. thank you for all your support on my first work!  
> this is a bit of a shorter chapter, sorry, mates. just had to tie up loose ends and such. THIS FANFIC IS SO FLUFFY IM YELLING

We spend most of the afternoon cuddling in front of the record player and talking. I can’t tell you what about, though, since we talk about anything and everything. Ringo puts on various records for me, including Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and Revolver. I snuggle my head into his chest as the psychedelic rock plays around us.

Soon it’s past 6:00 and I’m nearly falling asleep, my head in Ringo’s lap, his strong fingers stroking my hair. “I’m so sleepy, Ritchie,” I say, yawning.

I hear a sigh and then he says, “How about I make us some dinner, then we can go to bed early, hm?”

I consider that. “I’d love that, but, I mean, I can’t stay here forever, you know.”

He groans a little. “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up, because, well, I do really love you, (Y/N), and… I want to be with you.”

I lift my head up and look at him. “Wha… really?”

Ringo nods and smiles, a shy sort of sad smile. “I know it’s been such a short time since we’ve met, but… I feel a really strong connection with you that, well- I’ve never felt with anyone else before… I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He smiles cheekily again.

“Oh, Rings… I feel the same way…” I put my hand on his stubbly cheek. “I feel like I've known you for a lifetime that’s just a day long.”

He leans down a bit and kisses me once. “I know, luv. I know.” He runs his fingers through my hair one last time before saying, “How about I go make us some dinner now?” I nod, my stomach rumbling. He slides out from underneath my head and busies himself in the kitchen. I can hear him humming With A Little Help From My Friends as he clatters with pots and pans, and in that moment, I know I’m in love.

We eat dinner while cuddling on the sofa, then Ringo takes away the dishes as I try to find something for us to watch on the telly. An episode of The Beverly Hillbillies is on, so we watch that until about 8:30pm, when both of us are dozing off.

I’m half-asleep when I feel his strong arms underneath my legs and shoulders as he lifts me up off the sofa. Sleep clouds my mind as he carries me up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he lays me down. I settle into the soft blankets and I hear him unbutton and remove his shirt and crawl into bed with me. My heartbeat accelerates as Ringo wraps his warm body around mine. Then he softly begins to sing in my ear, his breath warm on my neck.

Now it's time to say good night  
Good night, sleep tight  
Now the sun turns out his light  
Good night, sleep tight  
Dream sweet dreams for me  
Dream sweet dreams for you  
Close your eyes and I'll close mine  
Good night, sleep tight…

And I fall asleep with his body pressed against mine.


End file.
